Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Danger
Did you make it home okay?
I’m sorry.
Zena?
Hello…
Did you make it to the studio today?
You ignoring me?…Bet
Danger stepped into the building on a mission.
He was supposed to be in LA for a major rolling showcase, but for the past forty-eight hours, his mind had been fixated on Zena.
When his texts went unanswered, the obsessive Virgo in him rearranged his schedule.
He pulled up. He wanted to hear her voice; he wanted to see her face.
Honestly, he found himself more eager to get back to Zena than to his own woman, Chyna.
He tried to convince himself he was only stopping by the Richmond office to grab vital year-end paperwork before catching a red eye, but his feet moved on autopilot straight toward Studio #1.
“D? What are you doing here?” Yasmin asked, stopping short in the hallway with a stack of folders in her arms. She eyed him with deep curiosity.
“Needed to take care of some business,” Danger muttered, his pace never slowing.
Yasmin looked down the hall toward Studio #1, a knowing laugh escaping her as she turned back toward her desk.
The moment Danger pushed open the studio door, instant irritation flared in his chest.
Instead of cutting vocals for her EP, Zena was slouched over, wrapped up in Chi.
A day’s worth of fast-food containers littered the tables.
Discarded Backwoods wrappers and sticky red cups were scattered across the floor like a college party.
Her phone was face down on a side table across the room, which explained the radio silence.
Neither of them noticed Danger standing by the glass because they were laughing hysterically at whatever was on Chi’s phone screen. Chi’s thick right arm was slung carelessly over her shoulders, and Zena was leaning back into his chest, smiling wider than Danger had seen her smile in weeks.
Pissed was an understatement. Danger couldn't tell which was boiling his blood more: the fact that she was wasting time on his expensive studio clock, or the fact that she was flirting with Chi.
Here he was, putting his neck on the line to revive her career, and she was in his space, acting recklessly.
Danger stepped to the console and slammed his thumb onto the talkback intercom button, his voice cutting through the speakers like ice. “I thought you said you were spending the day tracking vocals?”
Zena snapped her head toward the glass. The second she saw Danger's face, she rolled her eyes. Chi was clearly too high to grasp the energy in the room.
Stumbling out of the booth to pull himself together, Chi tried to dab Danger on his way out, but Danger just stared at his hand with a cold expression. Chi laughed it off nervously and slid out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.
“Do you have a problem, Zena?” Danger asked, stepping directly into her personal space.
Zena looked him up and down, biting her lip.
“Nah,” she said.
“Then please explain to me why you’ve been in my building for six hours with zero songs done, chilling in this bitch like it’s a nightclub?” Danger took another step forward. “Look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you!”
“I was taking a damn break, Danger! Okay? Is that alright with you, Massa?”
“Massa?” Danger’s brow twitched. She had him fucked up today.
“You heard me! You think you’re my damn father?” she snapped, crossing her arms defensively.
“I think I’m the man paying for the roof over your head and every piece of equipment in this room,” Danger bellowed. “You have a hard deadline to meet, and you’ve got the nerve to be grinning all in Chi’s face? News flash, Zena..Chi already has a platinum plaque on my wall. Do you?”
She glared at him, her chest heaving. “Sounds a lot like you’re dick-riding his stats right now.”
“Speaking of dick-riding,” Danger countered, his voice dangerously low as he closed the final inch of distance between them.
The possessive heat radiating off his body was overwhelming.
He’d noticed the lingering looks, the playful banter, and today’s little display was the breaking point. “You fucking Chi?”
A stunned laugh popped from Zena's lips. “Oh. So that’s what this whole alpha-male routine is about? You think I’m fucking Chi, Dmitri?”
“You two looked real comfortable. So, tell me…why shouldn't I think that?”
Zena let out a frustrated breath, spinning to storm out, but Danger anticipated the move, planting his frame in the doorway to block her exit. He loomed over her, the physical and emotional tension in the tiny space so thick it felt suffocating.
“Answer my fucking question, Zena!”
“I don’t have to answer a damn thing to you! YOU. ARE. NOT. MY. MAN!” She clapped her hands loudly on each word.
Danger’s patience snapped. He reached out, his large hand clamping roughly over her jaw, pinching her face up to force her to look at him.
“I am not about to play these petty-ass games with you in my own studio. Answer the question or pack your shit and get the fuck out.”
Zena yanked her face out of his tight grip, tears of frustration brimming in her eyes.
“No, Dmitri! Chi is like a brother to me! I would never look at him like that. I’m too busy losing my mind, crushing on you!” she screamed, the confession tearing out of her before she could stop it.
The studio fell silent.
Instead of arguing, Danger didn't give her a chance to think. He stepped in and crashed his lips against hers. Zena’s hands came up, intending to shove him away, but the moment his mouth moved against hers, all her resistance melted into desperation.
“Tell me to stop,” Danger murmured against her lips, his breathing ragged. “Tell me right now, and I walk out.”
Instead of answering, Zena deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Danger didn't hesitate. He hooked his strong arms beneath her thighs, lifting her effortlessly off the floor.
She locked her legs tightly around his broad torso as he carried her blindly across the tracking room, never breaking the kiss until her back hit the cool leather of the studio sofa.
Danger’s mouth immediately found the curve of her neck, his lips sucking and biting at her skin, leaving passion marks behind.
He trailed a path down to her chest, his hands gripping the front of her shirt.
With an impatient tug, he ripped the fabric open, sending buttons scattering across the hardwood and exposing her black lace bra.
He pushed the lace aside, his mouth latching onto her breast as his eyes locked onto hers.
“You smell incredible,” he murmured against her skin, intoxicated by her signature rich shea-butter scent.
Danger pulled back slightly, his hooded eyes searching her face. His l hands slid down to the waistband of her trousers. Before unbuttoning them, he paused, his voice dropping into a rasp. “May I?”
She nodded slowly.
Once they crossed this line, their professional dynamic would be permanently ruined. He knew he should put a stop to it, but as his large hands unbuttoned her pants, slowly sliding them down her hips
Then the studio door flew open.
Yasmin burst into the room, looking down at a tablet. “Hey, D, I got that updated budget tracking you wanted for—oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Layla gasped, slamming her hands over her eyes, spinning around, and sprinting back out into the hallway, the door slamming shut behind her.
“Fuck!” Danger hissed, throwing himself off the couch. He made a move to chase her down but stopped short, glancing down at his dress pants, his manhood rock solid.
Zena covered her burning face with both hands.
“Zena.” Danger started as he tried to adjust his clothes.
“Don’t.” Her voice came out incredibly shaky, almost a whisper.
“Look… I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “I’m gonna go find Layla and straighten this out. This… this was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Zena pulled her hands away from her face, her features contorting in disbelief.
Danger stayed silent, refusing to look at her, letting the words hang heavily in the air between them.
Zena let out a sarcastic laugh, mouthing “wow” as she frantically pulled her pants back up and buckled them. She tried to pull the front of her shirt together, but the fabric was ruined, the buttons gone.
When she turned to grab her bag and flee, Danger’s strong arm shot out, gripping her wrist and pulling her back.
“When I first built this label, Zena, I made a strict promise to myself to keep things professional with my team,” he tried to explain. “I’m not supposed to be looking at you like that. I’m still sorting through my own relationship issues. I just… I lost control.”
Zena raised a trembling hand, cutting him off before he could dig the knife in any deeper. “Don’t trip, Dmitri. It’s fine. This never happened. Strictly business from here on out.”
Wrenching her wrist free of his grip, Zena gathered her things, clutching the ruined fabric of her shirt over her chest as she practically sprinted out of the studio.
She flew down the stairs and straight to her car, her vision blurring as she jammed the keys into the ignition.
The second her tires pulled away from the curb and cleared the parking lot, she let the tears fall.
She had played herself again. She’d let herself get swept up in Danger’s hot-and-cold games and was so sick of being the fool.
In the end, no matter who the man was, she was always the one left holding the wreckage of her own feelings.
If he wanted to treat them as nothing more than a transaction, she would give him exactly what he asked for.
She would bury her heart, put the music first, and leave him behind.
The next afternoon, Zena walked into the lobby of Dangerous Records. Zena was wearing an oversized hoodie to hide the passion marks on her neck. She had spent the morning numb, turning her pain into music, filling three pages of her notebook with lyrics.